The house is quiet save for a low, almost undetectable beeping sound that she realizes is coming from somewhere deeper inside. Her shoes are wet, and since the floors are pristine, she removes them. It doesn’t seem right to leave them on the mat in the entryway, so she shoves them inside a hallway closet. In her socked feet, she pads softly through the dimly lit house and into the kitchen, where the beeping is louder.
Oh shit. They have an alarm.
Another keypad is mounted on the wall of the kitchen near the door to the mudroom, which is probably the entrance they normally use, since they both park in the garage. By her estimation, the alarm has been beeping for over twenty seconds. She has no idea how much longer she has until it goes off. But she has to try something, and quick, before the alarm company notifies the police, and Derek’s and Marin’s cell phones ring in Canada.
She punches in the same code as she did for the front door. 1-1-2-0. The keypad flashes red. Shit shit shit. Think. God, it was a terrible idea to do this drunk. In a panic, she punches in the only other number sequence she thinks it could be: today’s date, Derek and Marin’s anniversary. The keypad turns green briefly. The beeping stops.
Jesus Christ.
Her armpits are damp from sweat, and the adrenaline seems to have burned off whatever alcohol she had in her system. Her heart is tachycardic, and her throat is screaming for water. An empty water glass sits on the counter beside the fridge, and she presses it against the refrigerator’s water dispenser, filling it to the top.
She pulls out her phone and checks her Instagram to reassure herself that Derek and Marin are still in Whistler. They are. In fact, they’re now at a late dinner. They’re sitting next to each other in a round velvet booth, glasses of red wine in their hands and plates full of steak and vegetables in front of them both. The white tablecloth is sprinkled with some kind of metallic confetti—hearts and flowers, by the looks of it. The caption reads, 20 years down, 40 more to go? Sounds like heaven to me.
They look every inch the glamorous couple they are, and Kenzie feels tears well in her eyes.
It’s not that she didn’t always know he was someone else’s. It’s that she didn’t think she cared until now. It hurts to look at them, knowing the life they have will never be hers.
There’s only one comment so far, as Marin posted the picture only fifteen minutes before, but it’s from an account Kenzie didn’t know even existed.
sebastiansdad76: I love you so much, baby. Cheers to us. Happy anniversary, my love. Here’s to 40 more.
Baby. Derek calls Marin baby. He calls Kenzie babe. She never realized how much of a difference one letter could make in an otherwise generic term of endearment.
Kenzie needs to stop looking at their pictures. She needs to get off Instagram. She needs to get out of their house.
She also needs to pee.
Hell with it. Might as well check out their bathrooms.
The house has been remodeled from top to bottom, and the budding furniture designer in Kenzie can’t help but notice the clean lines and tasteful use of space. What’s not decorated matters as much as what is. The house feels traditional, but with a modern take.
“I grew up in a trailer park,” Derek had told her the first night they slept together. They were at the Cedarbrook Lodge, lying naked, legs intertwined. “We had nothing. Less than nothing. My dad split when I was two, and my mom had three boys to feed, and I was the youngest. Never had new clothes. Never had a new bike. Never had new anything. We were always hungry. There was never enough food.”
“Wow,” Kenzie said, touching his watch. A Rolex. “And look at you now.”
“It’s why I’m so particular about how I live.” Derek took her fingers and kissed the tips of each one. “I like nice clothes. I like having a nice car. I like having cash in my wallet, even if I use my credit cards for everything. I like not being poor, and I guess I have a chip on my shoulder about it.” He was quiet for a moment. “But that chip is what drives me. It’s what got me here.”
“And what got you here?” Kenzie asked, gesturing to the bed, the room, herself.